


Speedos and Spikes

by QuietConspiracy



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2016 Summer Olympics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Swimming, Bisexual Male Character, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gay Male Character, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Olympics, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Abuse, Stalking, Volleyball, Volleyball!Dan, swimmer!phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7835584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietConspiracy/pseuds/QuietConspiracy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three-time Olympian Phil Lester of Team Great Britain is headed to Rio, determined to focus on the podium and not let anything - or anyone - get in his way.</p><p>So why is it, then, that he can't get his (absolutely gorgeous) roommate out of his head?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speedos and Spikes

“Flight attendants, please prepare for landing.”  
  
Phil manages to look up from his iPod long enough to register the captain's remark before returning back to scrolling through his playlist. God, he _hates_ flying. Cramped quarters, his DS always dying halfway through the flight, sleep an impossibility — but considering how hard he’d worked to get here, there was no way in hell he’d turn back now. Not after Beijing and London. He couldn’t disappoint his mum and Martyn now.

Finally, after some contemplation, he settles on a song. Though admittedly he isn’t much of a rap fan, he did feel the Eminem song was particularly appropriate for the moment. He closes his eyes and focuses on the lyrics.

_“He’s so mad, but he won’t give up that easy, No he won’t have it…”_

OOOOO

The flight lands in Rio ten minutes ahead of schedule, and before Phil knows it he’s claimed his suitcase, slung his duffel bag over his shoulder & overtop his rucksack, and met up with the driver to the Olympic village. The address of his living quarters for the next three weeks is programmed into his phone, and he shares it with the driver. Despite the fact it seems like an eternity, Phil’s at the apartments before he knows it.

Six flights of stairs and a long hallway later, he’s arrived at his apartment. The two-bedroom apartment will be shared with three other athletes: a fencer and decathlon runner will be in one room, while Phil and a volleyball player will occupy the other.

Upon unlocking the door, Phil sets his things down and decides to look around. Immediately (despite his very sleep-deprived state) his eyes lock onto a plaque hung on the door nearest to his left. After closer inspection, Phil is able to make out two names: P. Lester and D. Howell. It’s his room then. Luckily, the door’s unlocked, so after opening it Phil grabs his belongings and staggers into the room, nearly tripping over his own two feet in the process.

The bed nearest the door looks slept-in, so Phil sets his suitcases at the foot of the other one before stripping down to his pants and climbing in a for a well-deserved nap.

OOOOO

“Oi! Roommate! Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

Phil jerks awake and looks over at the clock. Had he really slept for _three hours_? He puts on his glasses and is able to much more clearly make out the form in front of him.

A gorgeous, perfectly trim figure in short-shorts and a tank top is scowling down at him. Phil guesses the man standing in front of him is roughly mid-twenties and about his height, perhaps taller, with dark brown hair cut similarly to his own and the richest brown eyes he’s ever locked onto in his entire life.

“Hey. You there. Space cadet. Helloooooo? Didn’t your mother ever teach you it was rude to stare?”

Phil shakes his head and snaps out of his daze. “Right. Sorry. Phil. Phil Lester. Sprint swimmer. And you are…?”

The other man’s face relaxes considerably. “Dan Howell. Indoor volleyball. Nice to meet you.” He extends his hand and Phil shakes it, praying to the God he doesn’t quite believe in that Dan doesn’t notice how sweaty his palms are.

Phil starts to climb out of the bed and suddenly becomes quite self-conscious about the fact he’s in his skivvies, so he makes a dive for the skinny jeans he had on earlier. If Dan’s noticed, he’s not said anything, a fact Phil’s thankful for at the moment.

“So when did you get here?” Dan asks, sitting down on his bed and looking over at Phil as the latter finishes fastening his belt.

“Just about noon today, so I haven’t had the chance to really explore. And you?” Phil answers as he flops down again on the bed.  
  
“Our team got here yesterday night, so today was our first day of training.” Dan makes a face at this, causing Phil to laugh.

“So no parties for you either, then.”

“Definitely not.”

The two talk for a little bit, finding out quickly that they share similar musical taste and similar hobbies, but one question is biting at the back of Phil’s mind before he eventually decides to ask it, just as Dan describes the shenanigans his teammates got up to before this morning’s practice.

“I am curious, though — why bunk you in here, and not with your other teammates?”

Dan hesitates before answering. “I dunno. Probably something about building — community, maybe — with the other members of Team GB."

Though Phil can tell that it’s not the whole truth, he drops the subject and is about to ask another question when his phone buzzes. He checks it and sighs a little.

“Darn. I’m due down for training at the pool in twenty. Should be back about half-past six. Want to grab dinner together if you aren’t busy?”

“Sure. Chinese okay?”  
  
“Perfect. See you later.” Phil says as he grabs his duffel and heads out of the room.

OOOOO

Practice, Phil thinks, went fairly well today; it could have been better, true, but considering he was operating on three hours of sleep, he was satisfied enough. Besides, he still had more than a week to go before the Opening Ceremony. With training every day, he’d be up to speed and smashing his PRs in no time.

 _But isn’t that what you said in Beijing? London? Worlds the last three times?_ a little voice in the back of his head nags, and Phil closes his eyes and focuses on drying himself off. He couldn’t afford that level of disappointment again.

“Lester. There you are.” Phil’s eyes snap open as he hears Duncan Scott, his teammate, calling his name. “Come on, Coach is announcing the order for the 4x200 free. Get a move on, yeah?”

“Right. Sorry.” Phil wraps his towel around his waist and makes his way out to the rest of the team. 

He’s only just arrived when the coach starts talking. “Right. About the relay. You six,” he says as he looks around the group, “will be part of the lineup. Of course, two of you are alternates. Anyway, lineup: James, you first, followed by Duncan.” Phil sees James Guy and Duncan nodding in agreement. “Next, Robert. And Phil…”  
  
“Yes?”

“You’ll anchor. You're up for the responsibility, correct?” Phil swallows hard as he nods. The pressure, of course, is greatest on the anchor; to catch up with the other teams and surpass them, speed will be everything in the quest for success.

“Daniel, Stephen, you will be alternates should this lineup not be working properly in training.” Though Phil can sense the disappointment in the other two, he understands; it happened to him at both of the last two Worlds and London. “Any questions? No? Excellent. Go get cleaned up. Back in the pool at seven AM sharp tomorrow.”

OOOOO

That night, over a rather large plate of General Tso’s chicken, Phil and Dan get in a rather heated debate about _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. It’s while debating the merits of various characters that the door opens, causing both men to stop and look at the room’s newest occupant.

Or rather, occupants. Though both of the other men are tall, one is a curly brunet while the other’s hair is straighter and more black; the latter also has a bit of a wider, almost-funny-looking nose that somehow suits him.

“Sorry, we were interrupting anything?” the brunet asks.

“No, you’re fine.” Dan answers. “And you are…?”  
  
“PJ Liguori, decathlon. And he’s —” PJ gestures to the man next to him.

“—Chris Kendall.” Though Phil doesn’t know much about fencing, he knows the name seems vaguely familiar. “Also, and perhaps better known as, this loser’s boyfriend.” He punches PJ lightly in the arm.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” PJ pretends to look hurt.

“Please, love, you of all people know I’m only joking.” Chris lands a light kiss on PJ’s cheek, causing his boyfriend to blush. “Ooh, look, chicken.”

“Only if you promise not to scream out too loudly when you’re mid—”

“DAN!” Phil feels his cheeks redden. PJ looks mildly shocked, but Chris cracks a smile and chuckles.

“I like this one. Dan, was it? What are you here for? Wait, let me guess. Tall, toned, long arms, nice calves and—”

“Chris!” PJ hisses.

“—biceps, I was going to say biceps. Swimmer?” Chris shoots PJ a look as Dan shakes his head.

“Nope, Phil’s domain.” Dan jerks his thumb in Phil’s direction.

“I am perfectly capable of speak for myself, thank you very—”

“I’m volleyball. I used to swim a bit, though never competitively.” Dan cuts Phil off mid-sentence.

“So what was that about chicken?” PJ asks.

OOOOO

Over the course of the next several days, the four roommates end up spending most of their free time together; of course, with four different sports, the schedules rarely end up lining up so that they’re all off together.

The Tuesday before the opening ceremony, however, Phil’s afternoon swim practice gets cancelled when one of the South African swimmers gets sick in the pool. He bumps into PJ on the way back to the apartment.

“Everything all right?” PJ asks.

“Yeah, yeah. Pool’s closed down right now and the weight room’s absolutely packed.”  
  
“That sucks.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Betcha Chris is done for the day. Wanna go up and check, then go out for a bit if he is?”

“He hasn’t texted you?”

“Haven’t checked.”

“Ah.”

“You still haven't answered the question.”  
  
“Hm? Oh! Yeah, sure.”

The door to their apartment isn’t locked, so PJ’s able to swing the door right open. The two Olympians head in; PJ goes directly to his and Chris’s room, while Phil decides to linger a moment longer in the front room.

Just then, Dan comes out. He’s on his mobile, listening to whoever’s on the other end.

“Mmhm. Right.” He listens again for a moment, sitting down on the sofa and completely ignoring Phil’s presence in the room. “All right, I’ll let you go now.” He listens again for a brief second. “Love you too, Lou. Bye.” He hangs up and looks at Phil for the first time. “Oh, hey. When’d you get back?”

“Bit ago. Got to grab something outtatheroomberightback.” Phil feels the words fall right out of his mouth and before he knows it, he’s on his bed and staring up at the ceiling.

It’s not like he expected Dan to be single; how could someone that gorgeous not be taken? Still, the less rational part of Phil had, until now, clung on to the hopes of _something_ happening with his roommate.

Perhaps it’s for the better, anyway; a distraction is the last thing Phil needs before such a monumental competition. He sits up, gets off the bed, and rejoins the other three in the living room.

OOOOO

The following night, the foursome are at dinner together when PJ’s mobile buzzes.

“Text from Andy.” PJ says.

“As in Murray?” When PJ nods, Dan looks impressed.

“There’s a party tonight over in Building Six. _Huge_ showing expected. Starts in an hour or so. Anyone up for it?”

“I’m in.” Chris says.

“Got no choice. Rest of the team’s gotten on my case about not going out enough.” Dan grimaces. “What say you, Philly?”

Phil doesn't even hesitate. After all, he doesn’t want to be all by his lonesome.

OOOOO

When PJ had said huge showing, he hadn’t been kidding. Phil estimates there’s roughly five _hundred_ or so people crammed into the basement of Building Six. Of the people there, he recognizes Tom Daley, Andy Murray, and even Mo Farrah. There’s athletes from other countries, too; Phil hears Portuguese, Russian, Italian, Spanish, Swahili, and a handful of other languages blending together with the bouncy Latin beat to create the din.

He scans the room for his roommates. Chris is, of course, the center of a group of a dozen or so and appears to be downing shots faster than his companions can make them. PJ is by his side; Phil suspects that parties this big aren't really his thing. And Dan…

Phil spies him across the room with a few other men who he presumes are Dan’s teammates. They’re talking, laughing, and Phil watches as Dan slings his arm around a taller man, his other hand wrapped firmly around a plastic cup.

“Phil!” He snaps out of his daze long enough to turn toward PJ. “Everything okay? I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes.”

“I’m fine.” Phil says as he grabs a water bottle from the nearby table.

“Bollocks.” PJ takes a swig from his glass. “Something’s off. You’ve been in a funk since we got home yesterday afternoon.” Another sip. “Is this about Dan?”

Phil chokes on his drink. “How did you—”

“I’m not blind, Phil. Your eyes have scarcely left him since we got here, and moreover you’ve been more distant from him than usual today.” PJ takes another sip. “Besides, even Chris sees it. You give him the same look Chris gives me. So—”

“If you’re suggesting I hook up with him, Peej, it’s not that simple.”

“And why not?”

“One, I don’t even know if he’s into men. Two, I’m fairly sure he’s already dating someone. And three—” Phil pauses to sip his water. “—I can’t afford to be distracted.”

“Fine. Have it your way. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.” PJ finishes the last of his drink and goes off to the bar to grab another, leaving Phil alone with his thoughts.

OOOOO

It’s well after two in the morning, and Phil can’t sleep.

He looks across the room to the sleeping form on the other bed. There were some perks to the drunk Dan, after all; he wouldn’t see what Phil was about to do. Doing his best to be quiet, he gets out of bed and grabs his laptop.

A quick Google search later, Phil’s managed to pull up nearly a hundred pages of search results on Dan’s name. He quickly begins scanning, and it isn’t until about halfway down the page that a link from _The Sun_ catches his eye.

**KISS HIS ACE GOODBYE: DANIEL HOWELL AND MATEO KHATRI CALL OFF ENGAGEMENT**

Upon opening the article, Phil finds himself unable to pull his eyes away.

**_All’s fair in love and sport — except when one is missing. Two of the rising stars of the UK’s National Volleyball League and players on the IBB Polonia London volleyball team have called it quits._ **

**_Daniel Howell, 25, and Mateo Khatri, 24, have split after nearly four years together. Both Howell and Khatri were former standouts on and off the court at the University of Manchester, where Howell studied law and Khatri studied mechanical engineering. After a_ ** **_romantic getaway to Venice last year_ ** **_where Howell popped the question and a wedding scheduled for fall 2016, all seemed well with both parties. But appearances can be deceiving._ **

**_"The decision to part ways was mutual." says a source close to both parties. Neither Howell nor Khatri could be reached for comment._ **

Phil scrolls down to the small slideshow at the bottom of the page. Upon clicking, a dozen or so pictures of the happy couple are shown.

First, a picture of the two on their university team. Phil's fairly certain on which one Mateo is; his suspicions are confirmed on the reveal of the next picture, one of Dan's graduation.

Mateo is taller than Dan by an inch or two, but decidedly more muscular. He's not bad looking, Phil decides, with tanned skin, an inky black buzz cut, wide dark eyes, full lips, and a hooked nose. Based on the unusual combination of first and last names, Phil guesses that he's probably of mixed heritage; a quick Google lookup confirms his suspicions. A part of Phil wonders who broke up with who as he returns to the slideshow once again.

More pictures follow: a snapshot in an apartment together, one on the beach in the Canary Islands, Mateo's graduation, a trip to Monte Carlo, their team photo for their volleyball team, holding hands while eating ice cream together, moving into an apartment in South Kensington, a visit to Berlin, a picture of the two leaving a casino in Vegas...

Phil clicks to the last picture. In the picture, Mateo's left arm is wrapped around Dan, a thin black ring clearly visible on the former's hand. Dan, though smiling, seems to be faking it; something in Phil's stomach twists uncomfortably. The "happy" couple appear to be at a restaurant, a pizza on the table in front of them. Phil guesses that this is a shot from the pair's Venice vacation. Having seen enough, he closes out of his internet browser and shuts down his laptop before packing it away and lying back down. 

At least that settles the question of whether or not Dan's straight as an arrow. One thought remains, bugging Phil even as sleep pulls him under its spell.

_If they seemed so happy together, why did they ever split in the first place?_

OOOOO

Phil’s phone buzzes and wakes him up the next morning.

[Martyn: Morning bro. Mum and I got into Rio last night. Catch u for coffee at the hotel later?]

Phil texts back one-handed, the other focused on making the bed.

[Phil: Sure. 4 pm ok? Txt u if running late :) ]

Martyn fires back a response immediately.

[Martyn: K. Swim well today.]

Phil’s response?

[Phil: I will. See u later.]

Dan chooses that precise moment to roll over. “My head. Jesus, what _happened_ last night?”

“That’s what you get for doing body shots off your teammates.” PJ’s voice says, loud enough to be heard through the door.

“Fuck off, man, and get me some aspirin.” Dan rolls onto his back, clutching his temples all the while.

Phil ducks into the kitchen and returns with a bottle of water and two baby aspirins.

Dan takes the medication and swallows it with a grimace. “Thanks.” He sips the water and squints up at Phil. “Why aren’t you—” 

“I’m not going to compromise my performance by drinking.”

“Fair point.” Dan manages to sit up. “I’m starved. Wonder if there’s any porridge left in the kitchen.”

“No, but there’s half a box of Special K.”

“That you’ll conveniently pour three quarters of for yourself.” Phil tries his best to glare down at the younger man; it fails.

“Shut up.”

“Okay, you spork. I will. If—” Phil groans internally at this. “— you make me a four-egg omelet, double cheese.”

"Deal."

OOOOO

Phil’s stomach ties in a knot as he arrives at the address of the hotel Martyn gave him. He doesn’t understand why he’s so nervous; it’s only his brother, after all.

In the café, Phil orders his usual and grabs a seat in a less occupied area. He’s been seated for perhaps thirty seconds when his brother joins him. Phil gets up, and the two hug briefly before sitting back down.

“Anything interesting happening with your radio show?” Phil asks.

Martyn shakes his head. “Not recently. Though the studio did agree to let me interview you personally if you win a medal.”

“ _When_ I win a medal.”

Martyn rolls his eyes as he takes a sip of his drink. “Right. And they’re considering letting you back on my show twice a week for fifteen minutes each time. Fitness, nutrition, that sort of topic.”

“Tell ‘em I’ll take them up on it.”  
  
“Figured you would. So how’s training going?” Phil launches into his usual spiel, while his brother listens, nodding occasionally and half-faking interest.

“So…met any hot single ladies there?”

Phil snorts. “Please. You of all people know that’s far from where my interests lie.”

“Any fellows, then?” When Phil doesn’t answer right away, Martyn gets his answer. “So there _is_ one, then.”

“Will you keep it down? I can’t get it out to the media. Not yet, anyway.”

“Brother dearest, I _am_ the media.” Martyn takes another sip. “Tell me about him.”

So Phil does. And this time, Martyn appears genuinely invested.

“But there’s something I’m missing. Why aren’t you fucking him raw and—?”

“Martyn!” Phil skips pink and goes straight to crimson, burying his face in his hands.

“— _and_ , more importantly, why haven’t you _told_ him any of how you feel?”

“It’s not that simple, Martyn.” Phil says, his voice muffled slightly by his hands.

“It’s not that hard, either.”

“He was out when he went pro. I’m not. If I am, I risk sponsors. If I lose sponsors, Martyn, I lose _everything_.”

Martyn reaches over. “Philly—”

“Don’t ‘Philly’ me, Martyn. Not when I’m so close.”

“Fine. Sorry. All right? But I know you, Phil. Bottling it all up, keeping it inside—that isn’t healthy. For anyone.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Phil says, finishing the last of his coffee.

OOOOO

The following morning, Dan is the only one with training. PJ, naturally, decides this is the perfect time to accost Phil about his roommate situation.

“Lester. Out. Now.” Phil cracks open the door of his bedroom and sees a scowling PJ.

“Why?”

“I’ll explain…when you get out here. You have two minutes to be out and seated on the couch.”

One minute and forty-eight seconds later, Phil finds himself sitting across from PJ and Chris.

“We’re staging an intervention, Phil.”

“Always straight to the point, aren’t you, Chris?”

“I’m not the sexually frustrated one who likes their roommate but refuses to act on those urges.”

“Right, because it’s not like you and Peej haven't been going at it like rabbits since you two got here.”

“At least we’re actually using all those rubbers the Olympic committee provides.”

“Didn’t need to know that.” Phil closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get the image of Chris and PJ out of his head. PJ chooses this time to speak.

“Let’s get one—okay, two—things straight: Phil’s not, and Dan possibly isn’t.”

“He’s not.”

“Oh, so you’ve had this conversation already, then?”

Phil bites his lip. “Not exactly.”

“Then how do you—”

“Did you Google him to find this out, perchance?” Chris asks. Phil closes his eyes again and nods. “Jesus Christ, Lester, don’t you know you aren’t supposed to believe everything you read on the Internet?”

“There’s pictorial proof of this, Chris.”

“Is there now?” PJ raises an eyebrow, so Phil shows them the article from _The Sun._ “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’”

“So why aren’t you—”

“Because it’s not that simple!” Phil cries out, silencing the other two.

“And why not?” Chris asks.

“It just…isn’t.” Phil takes a deep breath. “It could be the end of my swimming career.”

“What does that have to with Dan?” PJ looks confused.

“This is my third Olympics, Peej. Beijing, 2008. I’m 21 years old, fresh out of uni, taking a year off before starting my masters. I qualify for four events, but don’t make it past the semis for any of them. Disappointing, sure, but not unexpected; I’m a newcomer to the pro scene, after all. Worlds, 2009, I do pretty well but don’t win any medals; same with 2011. London, 2012, everything was all right. Or so I think. I qualify for four events again, make the semis in three of them with a narrow miss in the 200 fly; I even make the finals for all three. And how do I do in front of the home crowd? Fifth, seventh, fourth. No medals yet again. Sponsors are dropping me left and right, especially after the disaster that was 2013 Worlds. Fast forward to 2015, my contract with Speedo is up for renewal. By some small miracle, they agree to keep me unless I don’t qualify for Rio. So I train. Better, faster, harder, stronger. I even win two bronzes at Worlds that year. I make it through trials, and here I am. If I get so much as even slightly derailed, I could be set back _years_ , and forget about Tokyo.”

“Still not seeing how Dan ties in.” Chris says.

“If I lose my sponsorship with Speedo,” Phil says, “I lose a good chunk of my income. I’ll have to give up swimming professionally for good. It was difficult enough when Tom came out a few years back; though divers aren't quite the same as swimmers, Randall, my contract manager, refused to sign or renew contracts with anymore ‘poufs’—his words, not mine. So Speedo doesn’t know about this huge part of my personal identity; a hookup with Dan could ruin that, and break my contract. Especially as I’m more the relationship type than the hookup sort.”

A look of realization finally dons on Chris’s face. “Oh. Well, shit, then.”  
  
“Yeah.”

Silence follows for a good five minutes, until PJ decides to break it. “Phil, listen.”

“Hm?”

“I know it’s not always easy, but…sometimes, you have to follow your heart. Do what’s right. Even if everyone else is telling you otherwise. It’s terrifying, yeah, but it’s better than being left to wonder what could have been.”

“Damn.” Chris says as he turns to his boyfriend. “When did you get so romantic?”

“Same time I met you, thirteen months ago. Even more so when we started dating last September.”

The pair kiss, leaving Phil an awkward third wheel for the moment. When Phil coughs, the other two break apart. 

“Right. Sorry.” Chris says while PJ pretends to look at the ceiling.

“I’m going to go.” Phil says. “See you guys before the Opening Ceremony?”

PJ nods, and Phil turns to walk out of the room without looking back.

OOOOO

Team GB has almost completely gathered in the underbelly of the stadium by the time Phil gets there, an hour before the Opening Ceremony is supposed to start.

“Phil! There you are!” PJ waves him over with one hand, the other holding Chris’s with fingers interlocking. The latter’s chatting eagerly with another athlete as Phil walks over to them.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” Phil says, not recognizing the third man with the duo.

“Andy, this is Phil, the roommate we were telling you about a bit ago.” When PJ says the name, something in Phil’s brain clicks and his jaw drops.

“ _You’re_ Andy Murray?”

“In the flesh.” PJ says. Andy extends his hand, and a still-starstruck Phil shakes it.

“Holy—”

“Phil!” Phil’s head whips around at the sound of Dan’s voice. “Come over, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Be right back.” Phil says to the trio, trying to ignore the whisper of “whipped” Chris half-disguises in a cough. 

His stomach knots up as he walks up to Dan and the shorter, pleasant-looking blonde woman next to him. “Hi.”

“Lou, this is my roommate, Phil Lester, one of the swimmers for our team. Phil, this is Louise Pentland, my absolute best friend in the world and mother to my adorable goddaughter, Darcy.” Dan says, pointing in turn at Phil and the blonde.

Phil extends his hand for a shake but is surprised that Louise pulls him into a hug instead. During the hug, all he can think is _Dan only referred to her as a friend, not a girlfriend,_ which allows him to relax into the hug.

“Danny boy hasn’t shut up about you, you know.” Louise says as she lets go. She turns back to Dan. “He’s cuter than you claimed he was, Dan. Is he—”

“Lou, drop it.” Dan says as he shoots her a pointed look, but all Phil can think is _Dan’s called me_ cute _before._

“Right. Sorry.”

“Let me introduce you to our other roommates, and then I want to talk to Phil. _Alone_.” Phil’s stomach flips as Dan stresses the last word. Before he can even process it, Louise is happily chattering away with Chris and PJ while Dan’s pulling him off to the side, just out of earshot of the rest of the team.

“So why are we over here?” Phil asks.

“I don’t get you, Phil Lester.”

“What?”

“You heard me, you spork.” Dan’s eyes narrow slightly. “I don’t understand you. You start out wanting to be my friend, but suddenly you’re drawing away from me. You claim to be an open book, yet I can’t figure you out. You swear up and down you’re a ray of human sunshine, yet ever since Tuesday you’ve been down in the dumps. What’s going on with you?” A pause, then Dan bites his lip, a motion that makes Phil’s heart skip a beat. “Is it something I’ve done?”

“Dan—”

“Just tell me, Phil, because I’m tired of being left out of this shit.” Dan snaps, his eyes flashing dangerously dark.

“I-I can’t.”

“Bollocks. PJ and Chris can know, but I can’t? What the _hell_ , Phil? I thought we were friends!”

“We _are_ friends, Dan, it’s just—” Phil sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Then why aren’t you telling me?”

“Because I can’t!” Dan looks shocked at Phil’s raised voice and takes a step back. 

“But why?”

Phil takes a deep breath. “Because it’s for your own good. Really, it is.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Phil, do you not realize I’m an adult too? Shouldn’t I be allowed to—”

“If you’re such an adult, then why are you acting like a child?”

“ _I’m_ acting like a child?” Dan snorts. “So hypocritical of you, Phil.”

“I am not a hypocrite.” Phil’s seething now, seeing red—not red, maroon.

“Like fuck you’re not. Talk to me again when you decide you actually care how your decisions impact your friends.” Dan turns around and stomps off; while he’s doing so, Phil tries not to stare at his arse.

He moans and buries his head in his hands again, slumping down on the floor.

 _You fucked up good this time, Philly boy._ his conscience says.

PJ comes over a few minutes later. “Dan just took Louise back up to the stands. You all right?”

“Far from it.” Phil admits.

“Phil—”

“Don’t. Just…let me be, okay, Peej?” PJ nods and goes back over to Chris, who shoots Phil a weird look as his boyfriend whispers something in his ear.

When there’s five minutes left before the ceremony starts, Phil rejoins the team, staying as far as he can from Dan and the others.

OOOOO

The tension’s still there the following morning; at breakfast, Dan leaves the room as soon as Phil enters it. Same goes for the pair’s bedroom.

The tension, surprisingly, works in Phil’s favor; he channels the anger and dominates both his qualifying heats, placing second overall in the prelims for the 400 IM and fourth in the 400 free. Both are good enough to bump him to the semifinals.

During the semis for the IM, he manages to place a respectable fifth with a time of 4:11.49. Though it’s still slower than he’d have preferred, it’s not bad considering the quick turn-around between his events and anyway it’s enough to advance him to the finals.

As he goes into the green room and picks up his phone, he’s surprised to see a text from PJ.

[PJ: Sitting in the stands with Chris and your family. Dan’s here too w Louise. Took some persuading by me and Lou but he’s here. He says hi and he wants to talk later??? Hope it’s okay. Kick some arse for GB.]

Phil fires back a quick text.

[Phil: Of course :) thx for coming. Tell Chris I’ll try and be there to watch his individual foil tomorrow. Same w Dan and v-ball if no schedule conflict.]

As he puts his phone away, the announcer starts calling out athletes. Phil lines up and waits to hear his name; he’s the fifth called out.

 _This is it._ he thinks as he comes out of the tunnel; he immediately hears Chris’s whoops and hollering over the applause. He tunes it out as he goes to his assigned lane; before he realizes, he’s stripped down to his speedo and swim caps, along with his lucky goggles.

“Take your mark.” _BEEP_.

Phil’s in the water as fast as he can, dolphin-styling it as long as is legal before breaking into his best butterfly. His weakest stroke, naturally, so he works it as best he can. What seems like scarcely a moment later, he flips around and continues. In the brief instant his head’s above water, he spies only three competitors ahead of him.

Butterfly turns to backstroke turns to breaststroke and suddenly he’s doing the last 100, the freestyle. Swimming as though his livelihood depends on it (which, okay, it does), Phil goes harder and faster than he can ever remember going. A flip turn later, and it’s almost over. Phil zeroes in on the water in front of him—

And then he’s done. He looks up at the scoreboard as he climbs out.

1 HAGINO Kosuke 4:06.05

2 KALISZ Chase 4:06.75

3 LESTER Philip—

Phil can’t make out the rest of his line, but he doesn’t care. He’s done it. He’s an Olympic medalist. A lifetime dream, achieved.

He covers his mouth with his hand and feels his legs go out from under him. His only emotion?

Ecstasy. Pure and simple.

OOOOO

After winning a second bronze in the 400 free, Phil returns home satisfied. Of course, the medal ceremony was great, but a pang of sadness had hit him when he’d not seen Dan among his family and friends after the second time. Maybe he’d had training?

He opens the door to his and Dan’s room and is surprised to see the other man back in the room. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Awkward pause. “So…congratulations. Two medals in a day. Nicely done.”

“Thanks.” Another pause. “So PJ said you wanted to talk?”

“Funny, that’s exactly what Chris told me you said to him.”

“Looks like we were set up.”

Dan stares down at his feet. “Guess so.” He gets up to go, but Phil grabs his arm.

“No…stay. Please.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I miss you.”

“Funny, seems like you were better off without me there.” Dan snaps.

“Dan—”

“You’re not the—”

“Dan.” Phil gets the younger man’s attention. “I know about Mateo.”

That shuts Dan right up and he sits back down on the bed. “What do you know?”

“Enough. Okay, to be honest, just that one article by _The Sun_ , but—”

“You’re basing your knowledge of my one serious relationship of an article from a _tabloid_?” Dan snorts. “Awfully presumptuous of you.”

Phil sits down on his bed. “Well, yes, but it gave me enough.”

“What did it tell you?”

“It didn’t tell me much, but the slideshow of pictures—it told me everything. That you loved this man. Were happy with him. That he was your sun and your stars, but at some point that all changed and I don’t know why, but it hurt you and that isn’t okay.”

A pregnant pause, then Dan speaks. “I guess I’ll tell you. Mateo…he was a good man. At least at first.” His breath gets shakier. “But about a year in, he started saying things. Like…because I was bi, I’d cheat on him with any woman who came my way. So I couldn’t see Louise as often. That was pretty much it for a while. Then he started saying I was a whiny bitch whenever I got sick. Started telling me I couldn’t go places without him…” Dan closes his eyes. “Making fun of me for being excited about passing my law courses, as if it wasn’t as good as being an engineer. Making snide comments about how skinny I am, how pale my skin is. Blaming me when the curry or paella he’d make didn’t come out right, because obviously I’d bought the wrong ingredients. Ignoring me when I tried to tell him how I felt about all this.”

Phil nods, even though the alarm bells are going off in his head.

“I didn’t realize what he was really doing, until about year three of our relationship. By that point, he was pressuring me to propose. Obviously, it couldn’t be him, because he was faithful and totally gay and this would be the only way to prove I’d never be with a woman again. So, stupidly, I did.” Dan looks down at the ground. “It wasn’t until seven months later, the weekend after New Year’s this year, when I came home to him fucking Neal, one of our mutual friends, that I lost it.”

Phil feels the air being slowly sucked out of the room.

Dan continues still staring at his feet. “That was the only time he ever hurt me physically. By the end of it all, I had two duffel bags full of my things, my wallet, laptop, and a black eye left to my name, since his parents had been paying for the apartment and the lease was in his name. I moved in with Lou that night, broke down, told her everything. I’ve been living on her couch ever since.”

Phil says nothing as he crosses the room to sit down next to Dan.

After a moment, this changes. “It’s not your fault, you know.” 

“I know. Lou and Mitch, my therapist, have been saying that to me for six months now. But it’s still hard, and I’m still so scared that I’ll fuck up any other relationship, romantic or no, I’ll—”

“Dan. Look at me.” Dan obeys, and brown locks with blue. “I’mnot going to hurt you like that. I’m not like Mateo, Dan. Neither are Lou, Chris, PJ—we’re all in your corner.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to go shower now.” Phil says. “And Dan?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you. For trusting me enough to tell the truth.”

OOOOO

The newfound peace between the two makes for a much smoother morning the next day.

“Glad to see you two lovebirds back to normal.” PJ says, laughing as he ducks the croissant Dan chucks at his head.

Chris, is picking at the beans and toast in front of him; he’s too nervous to eat. Eventually, PJ coaxes him into eating a bit, kissing him in between bites. It’s a scene sweet enough to make Phil gag; Dan, of course, actually acts on this urge and pretends to gag.

“Sod off, you two. We get it, you’re over-the-top adorable together. Let a man eat in peace, will you?”

Chris gives Dan the finger as he finishes swallowing. “Headed out now. Peej, babe, you’re coming, right?”

PJ nods. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“And Phil, you and Lou are headed out later to watch Dan, if I remember correctly?” Phil nods. “Care to swing by beforehand if I’m still in the tournament?”

“Can’t. Training. Sorry, Chris. Best of luck.”

“Thanks.”

OOOOO

It’s later in the afternoon, and Phil finds himself seated next to Louise, waiting patiently for the Britain v. Poland game to start.

“So…how does volleyball actually work again?” Phil asks his companion.

“It’s quite simple, really; six to a side…” Phil subconsciously ends up tuning out Louise’s explanation, if only because the match has begun.

It's the first time Phil has seen Dan truly in his element. It’s no wonder Dan went pro; though not the most coordinated or tallest man on the team, Dan’s command of the court is second to none.

After the first two rounds—Britain loses the second one, much to Phil’s disappointment—end, there’s a brief break before the last match starts. Phil’s scrolling through Facebook when a rather interesting _BuzzFeed UK_ article catches his attention.

“Lou, I’ll be right back. Quick phone call I have to make.” She nods in affirmation, though her eyes never actually leave the court

After ducking into a relatively quiet area before dialing PJ’s number. When he answers, Phil gets straight to the point.

“Why is it I have to find out through an article on _Facebook_ two of my friends just got engaged?”

OOOOO

After Britain squeaks out a win in the third match, Dan and Phil head back to their apartment, where upon they discover a rather intoxicated Chris and PJ celebrating their new relationship status.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you two, couldn’t you have moved it to the bedroom?” Dan looks mildly traumatized while Phil stares up at the ceiling, trying to erase the scene before him from his mind before it gets etched in there forever.

“Sorry.” PJ says. “C’mon, baby, let’s go on back.” He and Chris move up off the floor, away from the empty wine bottles, and continue celebrating in their private quarters.

“And rubber up for me, you two! Nobody’s bringing back Zika to England on my watch!” Dan shouts at the closed door.

“Dan…” Phil groans, “was that last part really necessary?”

“Oh, absolutely.” the other man replies, earning him a playful smack from Phil.

“Stop being such a spork, Phil. Let them enjoy this.”

“I am, I am, just not where I might accidentally witness it.”

“Fair enough.”

“So…” Phil says. “What now?”

“You pick the takeout, I go take a nap.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Who’s the one who didn’t have an event today?”

“I had training.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Fine. But…should we order for the other two?”

“Nah. They’ll be fine.”  
  
“All right then. Enjoy your nap.”

“Don’t you worry, I definitely will.” Dan says, and Phil swears Dan winks at him just as the door closes.

OOOOO

After an uneventful Sunday, the day of Phil’s last event arrives—something he’s both anticipating and dreading. Anticipating, because he’s certain his relay team will do well; dreading, because he knows Dan won’t be there to watch and that it all comes down to him.

It seems like he blinks, and suddenly he’s poolside and ready to go. They’re lined up in order, with James in position on the podium. Duncan is bouncing from foot to foot, Robert’s sizing up the competition, and Phil—

“Take your mark.” _BEEP_. 

James dives effortlessly into the water, and Duncan takes his place on the board. No sooner has Duncan lined up that James returns from his first 100; a flip turn later and he’s gone. Phil notes that the only teams close by are the States (who, naturally, are ahead) and the Japanese, who are maybe half a body length behind James.

Upon Duncan’s dive in, Robert scrambles into position. James, who’s sopping wet and out of the pool, is screaming encouragement down the lane.

Not like it was necessary; Robert dives in as Duncan makes his exit, still half a body length ahead of the nearest team. Unfortunately, by the time Phil’s in position less than thirty seconds  later, they’ve lost that lead; indeed, as Robert hits his 150 mark, the gap between Britain and Japan has widened, so much so that it seems like the team’s damned themselves to third place. Robert’s approaching the end of his shift, so Phil shuts out the distractions—except for the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

Phil doesn’t quite know when it happens, but the next thing he remembers is that he’s swimming even harder than he had in his last two races, determined not to be beaten by the Japanese team yet again. Fortunately, freestyle is his strongest stroke; with what seems like almost no effort to the observer’s eye, Phil suddenly finds himself just under a body length behind Japan as the two of them approach the end of their first 50. Flip-turning off the wall, Phil ends up just an arm length behind the other man. This realization makes him push himself even harder.

Suddenly, in what seems simultaneously to be both an instant and an eternity, Phil’s hitting the wall that signifies the end of his 150; he’s maybe a hand or so behind Japan. Pushing with all his might, he gets a sudden burst of speed that allows him to go even faster, faster than he has ever done—

Then he’s at the wall, and Duncan’s hollering, James is whooping, and even Robert’s smiling as Phil climbs out a mere three-tenths of a second before the Japanese swimmer, who smiles in congratulations at Phil when the rest of his team isn't looking.

“We did it!” Phil hears one of his teammates shout as they circle around him. He’s also vaguely aware of someone handing him a towel to dry off with.

As he goes back into the tunnel to go get dressed, Phil scans the audience for his family. He spots a grinning Martyn hugging their mom and jumping up in down, PJ and Chris both dancing in the stands—

And an unexpected surprise. Dan’s there too, still obviously very sweaty, but smiling, one arm slung over Louise’s shoulder. 

 _So he made it after all_ , Phil thinks as he disappears into the tunnel.

OOOOO

The door clicks shut behind Phil after he comes in from celebrating with his relay team. Though it’s just shy of midnight, PJ and Chris are already asleep; Dan, however, is still up, playing on his phone. However, he looks up when he realizes Phil’s also in the room. 

“Have fun?” he asks.

Phil nods. “It was all right.”

“That’s nice.” A beat of silence. “So…er…s’pose I should tell you not to leave your messages open on your lapt—“

“What’d you see?” Phil’s voice raises half an octave.

“Calm down, you spork, nothing too horrid. But I did realize why you have contacts.”

“And why’s that?” Phil’s genuinely puzzled.

“Because you’re so blind you don’t even realize what’s going on past the end of your nose. That those feelings you’re holding in, well…somebody might just reciprocate.”

Phil’s heart skips a beat, then two, as he processes what Dan just said.

“Are you—“

“Yes, Phil Lester, it’s true; I do believe I am in love with you. And to think, I was scared that you were pushing me away because—Oomph!”

Dan’s cut off by the taste of Phil’s mouth on his.

The kiss is softer, sweeter, gentler than Phil was expecting; Dan tastes like tea and chocolate and vanilla all at once. Combined with the musky scent of the younger man, Phil’s intoxicated and doesn’t want to let go.

When the two come up for air, neither can speak. Until Dan whispers one word.

“Wow.” 

“Did you like it?” Phil asks, nervous of being too forward.

“Like it? Phil, I didn’t just like it; I loved it. Just…come here.”

Phil comes over. “Yeah?”

Dan pulls him back down. “Where do I begin?” He kisses Phil on the cheek. “I love your eyes; they’ve captivated me since the moment we first met.” He kisses Phil on the forehead. “I love your hair—soft, dark, and wonderful.” Another kiss, this one on the nose. “I love your single-mindedness in pursuit of your dreams, in pursuit of your passions, in pursuit of whatever it is—”

Phil kisses him again, this time more roughly. When they pull apart, he notices the fire dancing in the other man’s eyes. “Dan?”

“Yes?”

Phil pulls him in and whispers in his ear. “I don’t normally sleep with someone on the first date—”

“So this is a date, then?” Dan asks.

“Shut up. Anyway, I don’t normally sleep with someone on the first date, but I did steal a small bottle of PJ’s lube and got some rubbers from the vendors. If you're up for it, of course.”

Dan’s eyes widen and he pulls back. “Oh.”

Phil’s brow knits in concern. “Is that—”

“No, no I just…can we take it slow, Phil? Not tonight, not yet; I want to do this properly. Like, y’know, a _normal_ relationship. I want to explore all of you, know your every curve, scar, whatever; I don’t want this to be a one-night thing.”

Phil nods. “Of course. Whatever you’re comfortable with. There are plenty of things that we can do without actually having sex. But most importantly—whoever said this would be a one-night thing?”

Dan stares at him. “So it isn’t?”

“No!”

“Oh. Fine. Take it back to your bed, then?”

“Yes, let’s.”

OOOOO

“You smell like shagging.” Chris announces the next morning over scones.

Phil chokes on his bite, and Dan has to give him a whack on the back to free up his airway. PJ glares at his fiancé.

“Really now, was that necessary?” Chris nods, earning him an eye roll before PJ turns his attention back to Phil and Dan. “But seriously, though, did you two—“

“Now why is that any of your business?” Dan asks.

“Ah, defensiveness. So _something_ happened, then. Congratulations, you two; took you long enough.”

“And maybe they’ll finally quit eye-fucking across the table.” Chris mutters.

“I heard that!” PJ snaps, eliciting a chuckle from Phil.

OOOOO

“So that’s really all you two did?” Louise asks Phil as they’re walking to pick Dan up from training.

“Why is it so hard to believe? First PJ, now you—why does _everyone_ seem dead set on thinking Dan and I went past snogging?”

“Calm down, I believe you. That’s actually a good thing. It’s just…” Louise pauses before turning and looking at Phil. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but as Dan’s not likely to ever admit it and you need to know…”

“What?”

“Mateo…you know he pressured Dan into some things, and—”

“Stop.” Phil says. “I’m not Mateo, Louise; I told Dan in all sincerity that I would _never_ pressure him into doing anything he wasn't ready to do. And I’m not going to judge him on anything that happened in his past, especially if it was some circumstance that was out of his control.” 

Louise relaxes. “Good. Because if you hurt him…”

“I know. And it’d hurt me just as badly.”

“Let’s get a move on, then. Don’t want to be late picking him up.”

“Right.”

OOOOO

Over the course of the Games, it becomes increasingly rarer to see Dan or Phil without the other; even then, most of their time is spent with PJ and Chris. So much so, that the media picks up on it—the “Fantastic Foursome” is what they end up being dubbed.

Though the British foil team places a distant sixth, Chris doesn’t seem fazed in the end. He’d earned an individual fourth place; though not good enough for a medal, he admits that he’s just glad he made it to the semifinals, which was far further than he’d expected in his Olympic debut.

“And besides,” he points out over the trio of pizzas he and his roommates are splitting, “I ended up with Peej and a wedding to plan; far better than the medal, since it’s a lifetime of memories versus one.” He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully. 

“Damn right.” PJ says.

“So when’s the wedding?” Dan asks as he grabs his fifth slice of the night.

Chris shrugs. “We’re hoping for…was it next September, babe?” PJ nods. “Next September, yeah. No specific date yet, but once we get a venue picked out we’ll have one.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Thanks. Lord knows we’ll need it.” PJ picks up his glass and finishes his water.

Silence follows. Eventually, it’s broken because Dan’s mobile goes off.

“Hello?” he listens for a moment before he pales, causing a knot in Phil’s stomach. “How did you get my number—” He’s cut off mid-sentence by the other party; while Dan doesn’t say anything for a solid minute, he looks like he’s going to be sick. Eventually, he interrupts the other party. “I’ll be right back…” he says as he pushes a button on his phone, puts it down on the table, and rushes out of the room.

Phil gets up to comfort Dan; however, Dan’s locked the door so he can’t. Phil goes back to the table and picks up the phone, surprised to see that’s it’s still on call, albeit on hold at the moment. Something compels him to take it off hold and continue the call.

“Hello?”

“You’re not Dan.” the man on the other end says; though he’s never heard the other voice before, Phil knows who it is.

“Mateo. At last. I’ve heard some…interesting tales about you.” Phil replies. In the background, he registers the sound of PJ’s fork hitting the plate.

“And what’s it to you that the little whore spreads these lies?” Phil had been willing to be polite before, but all thoughts of politeness are gone now.

First of all, Khatri, Dan is _not_ a whore. Second—” he’s cut off by Mateo’s laughter.

“Is that what he’s having you believe? Ah, such sweet deception.”

“And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Telling Dan you’re loyal while sleeping with a trusted friend, treating him like he’s less than human—”

“The fuck is it to you?”

“As his boyfriend—“ the word rolls off Phil’s tongue before he can catch it, “—I’m obligated to tell you that someone is treating him properly. Perhaps if you had from the start, you wouldn’t be calling him like the desperate, sad little man that you are. Stay away from Dan, don’t cll him again, and for goodness sakes enjoy the rest of your life with your right hand because that is the only companionship that you are ever going to get if you ever even _think_ about contacting Dan again. Are we clear?”

“You fucking—”

“ARE. WE. CLEAR?” Phil yells into the phone, hanging up as soon as Mateo starts releasing his list of insults and immediately blocking the number.

As he puts the phone down, Chris speaks up. “So are you two _really_ together?”

PJ smacks his fiancé on the shoulder. “Really? That’s all you got from that?”

Phil ignores the other couple’s banter as he goes over to the locked door.

“Dan? He’s gone. I promise. Let me in?”

The door unlocks, and Phil lets himself in.

OOOOO

The bathroom is dark and tiny; if it weren’t for the nightlight Phil likely would have tripped over Dan.

The younger man is curled up in a ball in the corner, hugging his knees tightly to his chest, eyes squeezed shut.

“Hey.” Phil whispers.

Dan’s eyes open. “Phil?”

“It’s going to be okay, Dan.” Phil says, and Dan bites his lip. “Really. It is.”

“I know it is, I just—God—how did he—and why—he had to know—I—”

“Deep breaths, Dan. He’s gone. I swear.”

“I just can’t—Seven bloody months—Jesus—” Dan’s breath is shaky. “There are only two people in the entirety of London who have his number and mine; who could _hurt_ me that badly? I just don’t—” His features darken. “That bitch.”

“Sorry, not really following along here. Fill me in?” Phil says.

Dan nods. “Right. So these two people were my—well, Mateo’s, really—landlord, Emma, and her partner Lakshmi. Both lovely enough people; in fact, Lakshmi’s part of the reason I was able to start to see how toxic my relationship was with him. Anyway, I kept in contact with Lakshmi after the breakup—turns out Emma’d been more sympathetic to Mateo’s side of things, causing a huge disruption in their relationship; hell, earlier that day she’d caught Emma snooping through her phone as Lakshmi’d been spending more time than usual on it, found a number she didn’t recognize, accused Lakshmi of cheating, they fought, resulting in Lakshmi spending the night at a friend’s. So two people had that number—though one was involuntary.”

Phil sucks in a breath. “Wow.”

“Insane, right?” Phil nods. “But I can’t believe she’d stoop so low—“

“Dan,” Phil interrupts. “It’s in the past now; I’ve blocked Mateo’s number for you, so he shouldn’t be able to reach out to you again.”

“Really?”

“Truly.”

“Thank you. Although—I heard everything—and one question.”

“Fire away.”

“When you called me your boyfriend—did you really mean it?” Dan’s hopeful expression turns to a frown as Phil starts laughing; the older man stops upon seeing the change in expression.

“Of _course_ I meant it, Dan; I’m just laughing because of how ridiculous this whole situation is—having this conversation on the floor of a bathroom.”

Dan smiles. “Well in that case, Phil Lester, I would be honored to be your boyfriend. Now let’s get out of here, shall we?” he says as he gets up off the floor and extends a hand to Phil.

Phil takes it. “Yes, let’s.”

OOOOO

At PJ’s events, he ends up becoming the first decathlon medalist for Britain in ages. But what gets more press is the picture of two members of the Fantastic Foursome kissing in the stands.

Within the hour, the photo has been circulated from the BBC4 tweet nearly half a million times, leaving news of PJ’s success in the dust of Dan and Phil’s newfound stardom as Britain’s couple of the Games. The reaction is decidedly positive, for the most part. However, Dan and Phil both are barely fazed, even as Randall calls Phil and announces the decision to drop him from the label. Luckily, Phil doesn’t seem to notice; he’s just happy that he’s finally free to be open with the public about who he is, once and for all.

Before they know it, the Closing Ceremony is over and the four are headed back to their apartment to finish packing. Naturally, with half a dozen rubbers remaining and two couples, not much packing happens until the half hour before they’re expected to leave for the airport.

Upon their arrival, PJ and Chris are the first two to check in, as their flight leaves a half-hour earlier than Phil’s.

Dan goes to check in next. However, something seems to catch him off-guard, and he ends up flagging down an attendant.

“Excuse me, miss, it says here that I’m flying to Britain via Manchester, whereas my records show I’m supposed to be headed back to London. Can you check this out for me?” A few moments later and the attendant confirms that the details on the screen correct; Dan’s puzzled until he turns around and discovers a sheepish Phil blushing red enough to match his hoodie.

“Care to explain what’s going on?” Dan asks him.

“So Louise and I were talking after she landed in London yesterday. We both came to the conclusion that you’d likely sleep better further away from Mateo and in an actual bed—” He’s cut off by the other man’s hug. Upon pulling apart, Dan looks like he’s about to cry.

“So why didn’t you tell me? I know I said I wanted to take things slow, but—”

“You aren’t mad, then?”

“Mad? I’m ecstatic! Over the moon!” Dan’s grinning like a fool as he pulls Phil back into a hug.

After the check-in attendant coughs, they pull apart. “Right. So. Ticket printout for Manchester, then.” Dan says.

As Dan and Phil walk away from the gate, Dan decides to whisper in Phil’s ear. “Thanks, you spork.”

OOOOO

It’s a chilly afternoon in September when Phil and Dan’s taxi pulls into the parking lot of the Islington Town Hall, twenty minutes behind schedule. Luckily, there’s signs everywhere pointing to the ceremony’s location; Phil and Dan snag spots toward the front on the side with Chris’s family.

Now that they’re seated, Phil gives his boyfriend a serious look; Dan’s suit, a lighter gray than the one he wears to work, is tailored perfectly to his long, lean body; a light blue shirt and navy tie bring his look together, along with black wing-tips and dress socks.

Phil can’t help but admire Dan for how far he’s come in the last year; despite the seemingly drastic decision to leave volleyball behind for good, he’s switched gears and risen through the ranks to become a respected domestic violence attorney. He even owns three suits now; the one he’s wearing, a navy pinstripe (which, okay, was a Louise-insistence), and a charcoal one that'd been Phil’s birthday present back in June.

“What are you thinking about?” Dan asks, snapping Phil out of his trial of thought.

“How wonderful this all is.” Phil says. “PJ, Chris—even you. Who’d have thought we’d be here?”

“Not I.” Dan chuckles. “Though I must say, Mr. Lester, I can’t help but admire that gorgeous getup you’ve got on.” Phil smiles; his navy suit is the only one he owns—after all, radio hosts and fitness bloggers don’t really have much use for fancy getups. Of course, the white shirt he’d been hoping to wear had been torn earlier this morning due to the couple’s favorite pastime; nonetheless, Phil’s light gray shirt and silver tie complements Dan’s look nicely.

“And you don’t look half-bad yourself, Mr. Howell.” Phil smirks when Dan blushes.

Just then, the music starts, causing a hush to fall over the crowd.

The ceremony goes off without a hitch; there isn’t a dry eye in the audience when all is said and done, and even maid-of-honor Louise is more drippy mascara than dry.

The group is then led outside to take pictures, as well as make small talk while the staff rearranges the chairs and tables together.

Later that evening, after the three-course dinner is done, Phil decides to take his boyfriend for a spin on the dance floor. Despite the fact neither is the most coordinated person, they make it through “Thinking Out Loud” and “Ho Hey” before one of Phil’s chosen numbers comes on.

_“Forever can never be long enough for me, Feel like I've had long enough with you, Forget the world now we won't let them see, But there's one thing left to do…”_

“You know,” Phil murmurs into Dan’s ear, “perhaps this’ll be our song someday. For our first dance. Would you like that?”

“Of course.” Dan whispers. “But…”

“I know, it’s PJ and Chris’s special day. I’ll let them have it.” Phil pulls back a bit to give dan a kiss. After they pull apart, Phil pulls his lover in again. “But someday…”

And that someday, it turns out, is a New Year’s Eve in Vegas two years later, with Chris and PJ and Louise as their witnesses. Though it couldn’t be further than what they’d once imagined, Phil’s perfectly content to ring in a new decade with his husband, a bottle of champagne, and a pair of tickets for the opening ceremonies in Tokyo.

OOOOO

Fin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm aware the Olympics have been over for a while now. This just took a lot longer than I was expecting.
> 
> The song from the opening scene on the plane is Eminem's "Lose Yourself" and it just seemed oddly lyrically appropriate, thus why I picked it.
> 
> The songs in the epilogue, in order, are "Thinking Out Loud" by Ed Sheeran, "Ho Hey" by The Lumineers, and "Marry Me" by Train.
> 
> This was originally going to be a lot fluffier and rated T, but then the words flowed and I rolled with it. #whatcanyado
> 
> If you enjoyed this, comment, bookmark, leave kudos, whatever.
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> -QC


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